A more detailed version of "Blurb"
by Raiden Lewis
Summary: I know I haven't written in forever, but a while back I wrote some ideas for a story that peeps liked. I expanded on them a bit and this is the result


  
  


If you're reading this, all I can say is you've got a tremendous ammount of patience. I was doing a search on the net and it led me back to my old section of ff.net, and rereading the story "A blurb for an idea I had" I remembered I actually had gone ahead and written the conclusion to the storyline. It you are truly interested and want to find out what happens, here it is. But I have to warn you, it makes very little sense.

  
  


For the reader's convienence, below is an edited version of the part of the story already posted. There'll be another note when it comes to the parts that I've added. Enjoy!

-Raiden

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


~*~

A child comes to life out of Hebrew legend to go on a violent crusade with an odd choice of

victim: werewolves. How many innocents will be murdered before Remus finds the connection

between his terrible nightmares and the strange boy? What will be the consequence when he

does? And is it worth the price?

  
  


~*~

  
  


He's gone after people - killed them! You can't tell me that's not the Dark Arts!

  
  


Not people, Sirius. Werewolves.

  
  


And there's a difference?!

  
  


Gentlemen, please. Calm down. It is true, he is not using the Dark Arts, else we would have had more information about him. No, his magic is older. Wilder...

  
  


We have reason to believe he's heading this way.

  
  


What can we do? Fight him? He's doing something we should have done...

  
  


What the hell are you talking about?! These aren't monsters he's murdering, they're people! People!

  
  


Sirius! Please! What information do we have?

  
  


The killings are all done in the same way. By some type of enchantment, he is able to...well, reach inside his victims and pull out their hearts. In the most literal sense.

  
  


My G-d.

  
  


But how is that possible? It's not...

  
  


Remus? Remus!

  
  


My G-d...Mr. Lupin, are you all right? We are idiots; we shouldn't have...

  
  


No...no...it's not that. I'm all right, Sirius. It's...not that.

  
  


What is it, Remus?

  
  


The killer. He's a boy, a child. Isn't he.

  
  


What?

  
  


How could you know that? We haven't told anyone...

  
  


A little boy with blond hair and such piercing eyes...

  
  


Remus, what?

  
  


And his name is Israel...

  
  


Mr. Lupin, how do you know this? Have you been in contact with him?

  
  


My dream...oh G-d, the dream...

  
  


What dream?

  
  


No...no...

  
  


Remus, it's all right, it's all right! You can tell us. It's all right.

  
  


Go ahead, Mr. Lupin. You have nothing to fear here.

  
  


It's cold, so cold. My breath freezes and hangs in the air, but I'm untouched by it. I'm standing in a white; no, gray place. It's featureless and empty, so blank that it's as though I am blind. I'm in my...other form, the wolf. And I'm still blind, there's no smell, no sound of anything. There's no one there, but then...suddenly I'm fighting an enemy I can't see! Just when I think I'm winning, he...I can hardly explain it. How did you put it, Minister? He goes...inside me. And I can feel him in me, his thoughts, his feelings. Each time they get stronger and clearer. For a moment, the two of us are one, with souls intertwined. And...and then...

  
  


It's all right. Go on.

  
  


No. Please...there's nothing more.

  
  


Remus, tell us what happens next. It may help us to understand these murders.

  
  


He finds the wolf. And...I suppose the best way to say it is that he jumps back. And suddenly where there was pure innocence there is a terrible fire, a hatred emanating from him. And he pulls out my heart. And I feel no pain. Just...an extreme cold, a...oh, I can't explain it! As though the greyness of the place is seeping into me, filling me, and yet I'm hollow all the same. And then suddenly the gray disappears, and I can see...all the senses come back. And he is standing there in front of me, holding my heart dripping black onto the ground. And I see him and know his name; know him better than when he was a part of me. And there is so much fear....then nothing. I wake up.

  
  


Silence

  
  


What does it mean?

  
  


I wish I knew.

  
  


Are you all right, Remus?

  
  


I...I have to go.

  
  
  
  


Remus...

  
  


You'd best follow him, Sirius. There is quite probably a tie between this dream and the other victims. We need to understand it if we are to prevent any more murders. In any event, I don't believe Remus should be left on his own, especially when the moon is full. Be there for him, Sirius.

  
  


G-d yes. With your permission...

  
  


Yes, of course. Meeting adjourned. Severus, Cornelius, if I may have a word...

  
  


The voices stopped with a whir and a click; there was a moment of horrid Muggle music that blared through the room, and then another mechanical sound and the tape was finished.

  
  


Remus stared up at his friend. "G-d, I didn't sound that awful in real life, did I?"

  
  


"'Fraid so. We'll have to work on that."

  
  


~*~

  
  


Sirius woke to the sound of muffled screaming.

  
  


"My G-d," he muttered; for one, horrible instant he thought he was back in Azkaban. Memories of insane laughter and soul-freezing fear rushed through his mind, rising in him every reflex possible. He bolted upright in the familiar bed and looked around the room. The noises from next door stopped, and Sirius suddenly remembered where he was and what he was doing. "Moony."

  
  


It had only been that morning that he'd moved his belongings from the east tower to an empty room in the west one next to Remus' own. His friend had helped him in the move, saying nothing about the suspicion of the change. Sirius had been glad of that; if there was one thing Remus loathed, it was being protected. Neither he nor the wolf enjoyed feeling weak. While Remus was far from blind, he had learned that when Sirius got a notion into his head, it was nigh ere impossible to deter him, and so it was best to simply try and ignore something he did even if it provoked disapproval. Although Sirius was fully aware of Remus' feelings, that did not stop him from being extremely protective of the last of his childhood friends.

  
  


Sirius dashed out of bed and threw on a robe, hurrying out his door and down the short passage of hallway that separated his room from Remus'. Not knowing what he would find, Sirius rushed into the next room to find his friend curled up in as tight a ball as was humanly possible at one end of the bed. Remus was pale and shivering violently.

  
  


Sirius was at his side in an instant. "Remus, what is it?" He shook the man sharply, seeing he was still asleep and trapped in the dream. "Wake up!"

  
  


"What...no...NO!" Remus sat up sharply, staring with unseeing eyes at nothing in horror. But it wasn't that that made the man who'd survived twelve years of hell gasp and recoil away; Remus' deep gray eyes were a bright gold color - the color of the wolf's.

  
  


Sirius froze, finding it hard for a moment to find his voice. In those seconds, the tawny color slowly drained out of Remus' eyes, taking with it the look of absolute terror on his face. Slowly, his breathing became more regular, coming out in less violent, gulping gasps. A moment more, and the now gray eyes focused on Sirius for the first time since he'd come barging in.

  
  


There was a moment of silence, broken only by the still-ragged breathing. Then...

  
  


"Nightmare?" Sirius asked in as mild a tone as he could manage, trying to keep both worry and deeper emotions out of his voice. He wasn't that much of an idiot; Remus did not need to be baby-sat. As he himself would say, 'I don't need you hovering over me; I've a big boy now.'

  
  


Remus gave a weakly wry grin, unbending himself into a more comfortable position and pulling together some shreds of dignity. He looked terribly thin and pale in the darkness of the room; seemingly made of fragile porcelain that could break at the slightest touch, and this movement only made to enhance that effect. "I'm sorry, Sirius, did I wake you?"

  
  


"Of course not," Sirius lied. "You know me - chronic insomniac."

  
  


"Despite the fact that you never wake up for anything less than a lightning bolt striking the bed," Remus replied with a smile for fond memories at the old joke, "and it's no use lying; I can see right through you."

  
  


"Hopefully not literally. There are enough ghosts here in the castle." Sirius didn't add that Remus himself could easily pass as one of them.

  
  


"I'm sorry," Remus said again, sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed. Sirius knew what he meant although Remus hadn't explained, and sat beside him.

  
  


"Was it...the dream you talked of today?"

  
  


There was a pause of thoughtful silence, as both men thought back to the discussion only half a day before with different emotions. Sirius remembered the meeting with anger; the Minister of Magic's transparent authority, Snape's ridiculous call for giving protection and even aid to a murderer simply on the grounds that it was werewolves and not others who were dying, and Dumbledore's infuriating appearance of calm during the entire thing. The entire discussion had seemed pointless at first, then moving on towards something actually resembling torture, as the three turned on Remus, forcing him to go into something which had obviously troubled him. No wonder he'd run out of the room as soon as the interrogation was over! Sirius glanced to the side and caught a fleeting expression on Remus' face. Apparently anger was not a feeling he associated with that meeting, but rather something deeper. He was, after all, the one with the dreams.

  
  


Remus nodded slowly, trying to keep his expression blank. He'd caught the look Sirius gave him. "He's looking for something."

  
  


"Who is? The murderer-boy?"

  
  


Another nod. "He doesn't know what it is, or why he's looking for it, or even that he is looking for it. But he is all the same."

  
  


"You do realize that that made no sense whatsoever?" Sirius asked, used to his friend's ramblings as he sought for words to express things that were sometimes beyond mere language. He'd gotten surprisingly good at it, over the years, and Sirius himself joked that he was the only one capable of translating what he called 'Moony-glish'. "You're starting to sound like Dumbledore; or worse - Trelawney."

  
  


"Thanks," Remus laughed at the insult, then grew sober again. "That's the only way I can put it. I still can't see or hear or smell him until the very end, but when we're fighting, that's what I feel. He's looking for something. Sirius, I think it has to do with the other victims."

  
  


"How so?" Sirius didn't quite catch the connection to that one.

  
  


"Maybe they're dead because they didn't have whatever it was that he's looking for," Remus said.

  
  


"That's shit," Sirius said hotly, standing up as his overly-active temper took control and anger and frustration washed over him. "If that asinine murderer doesn't even know what he's looking for, how does he expect to find it?!"

  
  


Remus dropped his head into his hands, imploring and despairing in the same breath. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know! I wish I did! Maybe we could stop this if I knew. But I don't."

  
  
  
  


Sirius could finally hold it in no longer. He simply could not hear that tone of voice and not take action; he knew that he should not be telling the man this gravest of secrets, but needed some way to explain to him why he was acting the way he was. "Remus, you know that Dumbledore thinks you may be next. The boy was last seen headed this way."

  
  


Although Remus had heard Fudge say something to that effect at the meeting, the news that Dumbledore actually believe and agreed with it was obviously new. Remus stared at Sirius with large incredulous eyes, feeling something akin to physical sickness rising in his throat. "No..."

  
  


Sirius didn't notice the tone of his voice, but barged right ahead, letting his emotions take control. "Dumbledore thinks that this dream is connected to it all; that maybe the other victims had the same one just before the bastard showed up to slaughter them."

  
  


"No, Sirius, that...that can't..." Remus sprang to his feet so quickly that his face lost what little color it normally had and he almost lost his balance. He ignored Sirius' worried support. "Dumbledore is wrong, he has to be!" he said vehemently.

  
  


Sirius just stared. Remus so rarely showed any emotion that when he did it meant that something was drastically wrong.

  
  


"You don't know, you haven't seen him," Remus continued forcefully, pacing angrily like a wolf in a cage, spanning the small room in brisk strides as though doing so would help him find the words he needed. "You don't know what it feels like to have someone... something you can't even smell or see....something go inside of you and rip out your heart! You don't know that intense feeling of cold; cold so deep it burns without pain. You don't feel that...aura of magic emanating from him, a power so extreme and pure and strong that you feel crumbled to dust. You don't know what it's like...to be a monster in all it's evil before innocence." His voice dwindled down to a whisper and he began to shake again.

  
  


"Oh, G-d, Remus," Sirius said, embracing his friend tightly, trying to absorb the violent convulsions into his own body. He felt a sudden wetness on his cheeks and realized that he was crying, although the eyes of his companion were, as they always had been even in times of greatest sorrow, dry.

  
  


"I feel so...incredibly...afraid," Remus said haltingly. "Afraid as I've never felt before. Even the wolf...I can't...I can't..."

  
  


And that was what finally reached through to Sirius and touched the deepest part of his soul. Remus was never afraid. Never. In all the years Sirius had come to know him he'd seen worry, pain, doubt, and occasionally anguish in his friend, but never fear. That was what had truly set him apart from everyone else; not the fact that he was smart or kind or even a werewolf, but that everyone could always count on him to have that one strength even when no one else did. That this bastard of a little boy could take that away...that was what burned Sirius to the core of his very being.

  
  


"Nothing is going to happen to you, Remus, I promise," Sirius said fiercely, holding him out at arms length. "I swear, that boy is not going to come anywhere near here. We're going to stop the killings. The dreams will not come true. Look at me, Remus! You hear me? They won't; I promise!"

  
  


For a moment, Remus wouldn't answer; simply stood there in the drab room with light from the half-moon pouring in through the window. Then he looked Sirius straight in the eye and spoke in a voice colder than ice. "Then you'll have to be stronger than the universe itself."

  
  


~*~

  
  


Author's Note - And here is where the great schism occurs. We head now to the finale and conclusion of the story. I apologise; I never wrote the body of this, and I don't plan to, so it's up to you to picture what happened. If you will, now, picture Sirius and Remus now alone in the middle of nowhere, on foot, perhaps in the middle of going from one place to another. I hope it's not too confusing, and if it is, I apologise. :oZ

  
  


~*~

  
  


Fall of the Sparrow

  
  


The sky grew dark as heavy clouds colored an ominous black obliterated the cheerful blue. The shadow they made across the sun rolled across the plain in a great sweeping motion, changing the vibrant green of the hillside to featureless shades of gray. Sirius shivered and drew his cloak tighter around himself as the chill wind picked up and slapped his hair against his face.

  
  


"It looks as though a storm is blowing in," he said, finding that he had to speak louder than normal to be heard above the whistle of the wind. "We should find some cover."

  
  


Remus didn't answer. He was staring at something unseen far into the distance, oblivious to the wind and weather. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder and jerked, startled; Remus was icy cold to the touch. The lighthaired man shivered violently but made no motion to pull in his cloak, far to occupied with whatever it was he was staring at. Sirius looked in that general direction, but saw nothing but rolling gray hills and the empty plain.

  
  


"Remus, what is it?" Sirius asked. He leaned in closer to his silent friend, trying to see what it was that held his attention captive. "Remus!"

  
  


The man jerked and tore his eyes away from the horizon. He looked up at Sirius' worried expression and pulled his cloak around him, finally noticing the wind. But, as though it were magnetic, his gaze was drawn back away from Sirius. On his face was an expression that could only be described as unreadable; it was as though, Sirius thought, the wolf that Remus became every full moon was looking out through his human body. Watching, waiting. Sensing something that no human could see. "He's coming," he said finally. Sirius had to strain his ears to make out the words.

  
  


"What do you mean, he's coming?" Sirius asked, trying to keep his voice light while his mind was screaming. Did he mean the murderer? How could he know where he is? How could the murderer know where we are? What am I supposed to do? Sirius put his hand immediately to his wand, feeling that old desire to fight whatever it was that was troubling his friend. His mind went back to that nightmare-filled night when Remus had confessed his fear. Sirius didn't know which was worse; then, or now. The thick air practically seethed with an expectation that something was about to happen.

  
  


Remus turned suddenly and gasped. Sirius caught a glimpse of utter terror in his eyes that reflected the iron-colored sky before turning to look behind him. There, standing before them, was a boy.

  
  


He could hardly have been seven years old, with the face of an angel and eyes the color of a cloudless day. His hair, the color of spun gold, seemed untouched by the wind that had risen to a howling gale around them. He stood with a stillness and intensity that seemed impossible for a child of that age; radiating a sort of aura of Purpose. Sirius felt Remus at his side grow tense and taut as a bowstring.

  
  


"Israel." The word seemed nothing more than a dry hiss of air emanating from between Remus' lips, but to Sirius it carried more meaning than an encyclopedia. The child, hearing his name, fixed his clear gaze on the older man, unafraid. His glance fell on Sirius for the span of an instant that seemed a millennia. He had the eyes of one to whom the evils of the world were truly unknown.

  
  


Remus started forward, walking down the grassy slope to meet the child. Sirius moved to follow, but found suddenly that he could not! What had the child done? He had seen no motion, no spell being cast...Sirius struggled for a moment but found he was incapable of that as well. He watched helplessly as Remus walked forward to meet the boy, his mind crying in an endless monotony, No!

  
  


"Your name is Remus Lupin." The child spoke in a strong, high voice that had the rind of bells to it. He did not ask, but rather stated the question as though it was beyond doubt. Sirius watched as Remus inclined his head slowly in assention, but made no sound. Again he struggled to move forward, but to no avail.

  
  


"I have dreamed of you," the boy continued, looking up at the man as though the entire affair was perfectly commonplace.

  
  


"I can't see you," Remus murmured inexplicably. His voice was faint and dull sounding, next to the angelic tone of the child's. Sirius couldn't see his face as his back was to him, and wondered what the child had done to impair his friend's vision.

  
  


The child lashed out suddenly, catching Remus full across the face with a blow so hard that the man rocked back, unable to block it. In an instant, the boy was on him, fighting with the strength of ten people, raining kicks and punches in so fast that Remus only caught 1 in 10 of them, without even thought of fighting back. He was forced to his knees as the wind rose to a howling pitch. Sirius' mind screamed.

  
  


Suddenly, the boy was gone and Sirius fell forward, able to move again. He ran to where Remus knelt stiffly as quickly as he could, his flying cloak throwing him off balance for a moment. He practically crashed to the ground next to his friend. He paid no heed to where the child had gone, his mind and vision filled only with the man before him. "Remus! Remus, answer me!"

  
  


But Remus wouldn't, or couldn't. Sirius took him by the chin and lifted his head up to see his face. "What..." He couldn't finish.

  
  


The face that stared back at him was that of the wolf, with the cold impassivity of an ancient animal. The eyes were a golden yellow that seemed deeper than an ocean, but something was wrong, they were blank and unseeing, as though almost facing inward. Sirius recoiled back sharply, almost falling again. He blinked sharply, trying to see if it was a dream. It wasn't. 

  
  


"Oh Lord," a voice said behind him. Sirius whirled to see the child again, standing with a look of utter anguish on his clear face. In his two blood-red hands was a dark dripping object that spilled dark fluid onto the ground and covered the boy. There was a pain filled gasp and Sirius turned again to see Remus, normal again, collapse to the ground.

  
  


"No!"

  
  


"I never thought...," the boy said in a tear-filled voice as Sirius fruitlessly tried to revive his fallen friend. "I thought he was a monster...oh Lord forgive me for what I have done!" In a fluid motion he bent down and pushed the bleeding heart into the ground as though it were no more solid than melting butter. For a moment, the earth throbbed with the dying heartbeat, and was silent. In a whirl of mist, the child disappeared.

  
  


The wind died down, leaving behind an empty silence and taking with it Remus' last gasping breath. From the black clouds, rain began to fall, washing the dark blood into the earth. 

  
  


~*~

The Price of Duty

  
  


Remus was gone. 

  
  


He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, clutching the frail form of what had once

been his friend, now lifeless and cold. He hardly felt the rain pouring down in sheets of prickling

ice; hardly felt the wind that chilled to the bone. There was no emotion in his heart, his soul; no,

the anger would come later. All he felt now was a great, blessed numbness of being, and a

terribly empty place inside. A void that was slowly but surely consuming him. Sirius clung to the

body, feeling as though his own heart had been torn out.

  
  


He had no idea how long it was before he realized that Dumbledore was there. Sirius had

no warning of the Headmaster's presence until he felt the man's heavy hand on his shoulder. He

looked up into the grave eyes of his old mentor and teacher, and said nothing.

  
  


Albus Dumbledore could almost not bear to look into the pain on Sirius' face; still so

incredibly young and innocent seeming, despite everything. And then, of course, was the death,

the greatest sorrow of it all. "Give Remus to me, Sirius," he said softly.

  
  


Sirius shook his head slowly, the sleet running in rivulets down his lined face and caking

like ice in his hair. He spoke in a croaking, weakened voice: that of a man who, if he let himself,

could drown out an ocean in tears. "How?" he asked. 

  
  


Dumbledore blinked. That had not been the question he'd expected. Why, perhaps, but

certainly not how. 

  
  


"How," Sirius continued, "if he was so different from the others...how could that murderer

still kill him?"

  
  


Dumbledore looked down at the still face of Remus Lupin. It was as blank and inscrutable

as it had always been in life, only then covered by a mask of lively eyes and bitter smiles. Both

were now gone. "There was nothing to be done I believe the two were destined to meet;

preordained. I daresay both knew the outcome; or at least, Remus did."

  
  


"That doesn't answer the question!" Sirius said harshly. "Remus was different! The boy

knew it - he felt it!"

"After," Dumbledore added softly. "By then it was too late."

Sirius hung his head, feeling the numbness ebb away, taking with it his energy and strength

as inexorably as the tide. He collapsed slowly to the ground, his dark head bowed over Remus'

light one. Dumbledore let him lie there for a moment, understand the overwhelming emotion

Sirius was fighting.

  
  


Ever since Potter, Lupin, and Black had met, nearly 20 years ago, they had in the ultimate

ignorance of children created a bond between them too strong to ever be broken. It was a tie of

ancient magic, a spell of pure love much like the one that protected James' son, Harry. A magic

so strong that when they had first laid eyes on the three boys their first year at Hogwarts,

Dumbledore and the other professors had actually been able to feel it. 

  
  


The Headmaster knew the extreme danger in that friendship, and sure enough, when James died, the tremor in the spell had practically ripped the remaining two apart. Then, when Sirius had been imprisoned, Dumbledore had helplessly sat back and watched Remus alone try to uphold that wild magic, and saw as it slowly destroyed him. When Sirius was freed, it had been nothing less than a G-dsend, for Dumbledore alone knew just how close Remus had been to either death or madness; it had been a miracle in itself he'd survived so long. And now...now Remus was gone, and it was Sirius who was left well and truly alone, with no hope of a 2nd coming and salvation.

"How can I survive?" Sirius asked in a despairing voice, echoing Dumbledore's thoughts. 

"How can I possibly stand this...it hurts so much now, and I hardly feel anything....how can I ever

survive?"

  
  


"You will," Dumbledore said. "You must." He gently bent down and took Remus out of

Sirius' arms. With a flick of his wrist, the three disappeared, leaving the rain to beat down

uncaring on the black earth that had swallowed the heart and life of one man, and the soul of

another.

  
  


~*~

  
  


The Means of the Power

  
  


Dumbledore apparated them all the way back to Hogwarts, appearing unceremoniously in the main hall of the gigantic castle with Remus in his arms and Sirius standing wearily beside him. They both dripped water onto the stone floor, where it collected in freezing puddles of melted ice. Dumbledore wondered momentarily how long it would take to brush all the tangles out of his long white beard, a prevailing inconvenience. 

  
  


It took only a few minutes for Madam Pomphrey and Professors McGonagall and Snape to arrive, dressed in nightwear but alert all the same. The teachers stared a moment, and then sprang into action. Severus took Remus surprisingly gently and disappeared with Minerva, who had tears streaming down her face. Poppy administered to Sirius, who was virtually untouched save for a mild case of hypothermia. He shook off her ministerings with harsh words spoken in a growling voice, staring down the hallway that Snape had taken.

  
  


"Thank you, Poppy," Dumbledore said softly, when he saw that the nurse wasn't doing any good. With a curt nod of her head that belied no emotion, the little woman left briskly with only one backwards glance at Sirius.

"This will not be good," she predicted under her breath.

  
  


Dumbledore looked at Sirius, placing a hand on his arm to steer the young man. "Sirius, you should get to bed." Seeing him nod, Dumbledore led him up a long, winding flight of stairs. Step after step after step, Dumbledore's mind wandered ahead to the comfort of his warm bed, where there were no deaths to worry about, nor schools to run, nor people to comfort. It took him a moment to realize that Sirius was not with him.

  
  


Dumbledore stopped sharply and turned back down the stairs. There were no windows in this tower, so Sirius was in no danger in that perspective...but perhaps had he decided to throw himself down the staircase itself...the Headmaster noticed a strange light glowing just around a bend in the corridor and stopped. A hum of powerful magic ran through him, muted as though it was being reflected off of someone else. Or out of someone else.

  
  


Sirius stood stock still, staring at his hands. They were glowing a white yellow color, as though they were on fire, yet unburned. He almost smiled at the pleasantly tickling sensation running through his body.

  
  


"Nice," a voice said suddenly, echoing through his mind.

  
  


Sirius jerked, his fiery hands clenching spasmodically. The voice was one he had not heard in such a long time. It was, as someone had once commented, the color of milk chocolate; smooth and deep, but not too dark. It carried in it the sound of both laughter and a sense of responsibility; the kind of voice one would trust in an instant. Sirius had never thought he would hear it again. He gasped, "James?"

  
  


"Yes, rather pretty," another voice chimed in, lighter that the first. A voice that had been forever silenced not two hours ago... "My hands never did that of their own accord."

  
  


"Remus!" Sirius cried, not hearing his voice echoing off of the stone stairwell. The flame flared and intensified, sending exotic orange shadows up onto the walls.

  
  


"Well, Padfoot," James' voice said, wonderfully familiar. "Long time no see."

  
  


"My fault, that," Remus said dryly. "Sorry, you chaps."

  
  


"As always." Sirius could almost hear the smile in James' voice, picturing the mischievous look he always had on his face, from age 5 to age 20. It was always that lopsided grin, a wink of the eye, and a pause while he pushed his glasses up his nose. James was the only person Sirius know who could make that gesture seem anything but geeky. 

  
  


"How...how are we doing this?" Sirius gasped, finding his voice again.

  
  


"Magic," James explained magnanimously.

  
  


"It's a tie too strong to be broken," Remus said. Sirius remembered that gleam his friend always got in his eye when he'd discovered something new and interesting. He saw it in his mind's eye now. "We must have messed something up."

  
  


"Of course," James' voice agreed. "We couldn't possibly leave you alone, Padfoot! How would you ever survive?"

  
  


He said it in jest, but Sirius was sobered to hear his own words coming back to him, from that dark and icy place where Remus had lost his life. Sirius shook his head, relishing the cool feeling of his shaggy wet hair slapping against his face. Yes, they had both died. But they were not gone. Now was not a time for mourning.

"This is amazing," Sirius confessed. "Where are you? Where's Lily? Are you together? Can we do this as many times as we want, or is it...all going to end as soon as I close my eyes?"

  
  


"We can't answer those first thousand," Remus said kindly. "And that last one..."

  
  


"We'll have to trust that the higher powers aren't cruel enough to do that to us," James finished. "In any case, it isn't as though we've got anything better to do around here."

  
  


"This'll be fun," Remus said in a parody of his voice 20 years ago. Hearing it, Sirius felt an overwhelming longing for those reckless, carefree days when they had been young and untouched by the world around them.

  
  


"I missed you guys," Sirius confessed, feeling a choking feeling rise in his throat.

  
  


"Who wouldn't?" James asked thoughtfully. "We can't survive without one another. You won't be alone, Sirius. Never again. You'll never be on your own."

  
  


"You should have said that 12 years ago," Sirius said.

  
  


"Sirius?" Dumbledore asked, dashing around the bend in the staircase. Sirius started, his gaze unfocused and pointed at the bare wall in front of him. Dumbledore sighed inwardly that he had come to no harm in those few seconds he'd been out of sight. The Headmaster descended until he was level with the man, noticing that the strange glow, the tingle of magic, and the utterly devastated look on Sirius' face were completely gone; vanished without a trace. "Sirius, who were you talking to?"

  
  


Sirius took his gaze off the wall and focused his gaze on Dumbledore. His eyes were animated with the manic energy he had possessed before being imprisoned in Azkaban, yet his face was calm. Dumbledore stared at him, realizing just how much like Remus Sirius looked in that moment. Sirius' hand flickered up to his face, as though to push phantom spectacles up the bridge of his nose. And then he spoke. "You'll never believe me. They were here. That's what it all meant; that was the meaning of the power. They were here."

  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  


And that is it. I'm sorry if you expected more, I truly am. If you'd completely forgotten about me, that's perfectly alright because I'd forgotten about myself. Thanks go to everyone who reviewed the original version of this; you're incredibly kind. And Miss Kitty, yes, I still have writer's block so don't ask me to write more!

  
  


Disclaimer - I own no one, not even Israel. He belongs to Hebrew mythology and The Devil's Arithmatic.

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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